


Masters of Disguse

by TheBeeThatHums



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Disguise, Disguised Sherlock Holmes, F/M, Fluff, Fun, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 21:59:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18374897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeeThatHums/pseuds/TheBeeThatHums
Summary: I’m trying a drabble series in an attempt to challenge myself to KEEP THINGS SHORT FOR ONCE. They will be between 500 and 600 words in which Sherlock’s feelings for the reader develop through a series of undercover situations for his cases.





	1. 40 - Love

Of course John had to be out on a date when he needed him. In the middle of the day too.

Annoying.

Though he supposed this solution was better in a way. You may not have been Sherlock’s first choice but with you he didn’t have to worry about you getting flustered when people assumed you were a couple like he did with John.

You seemed smart enough and willing. Being amazed with his skills must run in the family. John had warned him that he’d have his head if he let anything happen to you- his baby sister. What an idiotic turn of phrase. You were hardly a baby.

Oh well.

At least you could play tennis decently enough to keep the cover he’d created from being blown. He abruptly ended the game when the couple he needed information from stepped on to the courts, moving towards the benches as he tried to come up with a way to engage in a conversation with them and tugged at the neck of his sweater vest.

What an infuriating article of clothing.

So itchy.

He let out a huff of annoyance and then went wide-eyed when you nonchalantly skipped over to their court, calling out, “Hello there! Fancy a doubles match?”

Well, that was one way to do it.

Perhaps there was more to you than he’d originally thought.

The couple readily agreed, offering you a wide grin and exchanging pleasantries with both of you before he hummed, “It seems you enjoy setting us up to lose, dear. Your tennis playing is mediocre at best.”

You frowned up at him, giving his arm a light slap, “We’ll see about that.”

You turned back to your new ‘friend,’ “What do you say we show these boys what’s what?”

She offered you a smirk, looking over at her husband, “I’d love to.”

This was going better than he’d expected.

Definitely underestimated you.

Both on the court and off it seems as you easily beat them in the match.

Now came the important part- the information gathering. He chatted on the bench with the man while you gabbed away with the woman on your way to get some water together. Sherlock had barely drawn out any information from his target before you were calling his fake name, “James, dear, we’ve got to go or we’ll be late for lunch with my parents!”

You bounced over and took up his hand, “You didn’t really think you could get out of it that easily, did you?”

He let out an exasperated sigh for more reasons than one but still bid the man farewell and let you tug him off the courts. As soon as you were out of sight he angrily huffed, “I wasn’t finished, you know.”

“Doesn’t matter. The wife was more than willing to share.”

You relayed the information you’d gathered as you strolled out of the club hand in hand. Once Sherlock was satisfied you had gotten what he needed, he discovered something irrelevant but, for reasons he was unsure of, interesting- your hand fit perfectly in his and it was… comforting?

Was that what this tingling feeling in his chest was?


	2. Astrophysics

What had just happened?

Once second he was desperately trying to remember any information on his hard drive about astrophysics- damn that pointless field- and the next you were flawlessly gabbing with the target, keeping your cover from being blown wide open. There was a definite advantage to having you along. Though he’d already gathered that from the tennis case.

Stupid sweater vest had given him a rash.

Irritating.

Sherlock blinked, glancing over at John to find your brother was equally confused, if not more so.

Definitely more so.

“Don’t mind them. He’s a chemist. You know how they are- no consideration for the bigger picture… and my brother there is here for a theater lecture. Token creative type, you know,“ you offered the young scientist, giving a quick grin as you adjusted the thick-framed glasses on your face.

Shame they were fake. You looked… presentable with glasses.

Very presentable.

Now that he thought about it the whole disguise suited you. Perhaps assuming you had no scientific interests was a mistake. You played the part naturally and your knowledge of astrophysics was a curious anomaly in your character. Something that even John didn’t know about.

Interesting.

Worth further investigation.

Bringing himself back to the present, he adjusted his periodic table shirt and gave a displeased huff at your statement, “I resent that.”

“You would,” you laughed, looking up at him with a glint of mystery in your eyes.

Damn that bloody glint.

Every time he thought he had you figured out that damn glint popped up again.

He couldn’t exactly complain. You were turning out to be even more useful than John and you somehow always managed to be one step ahead of him when undercover. Not that he’d ever admit that.

Of course not.

Though making John a theater type… that was brilliant. He might have to give you credit for that.

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Either way, it was hilarious.

“Would you mind giving us a tour? My research partner here is just dying to see your bees. Our uni refuses to let us bring them anywhere near anything,” you pleaded with a small smile and the girl returned it nodding, “How could I deny a fellow scientist? It’s a shame they won’t let you have your own.”

Good.

He needed to see those bees. Those glorious bees. Apis mellifera.

Lovely creatures.

“Isn’t it just,” he answered with a genuine frown. Your lie actually wasn’t too far from the truth. John had forbidden any attempts of cultivating a hive of his own in the flat when he’d discovered Sherlock’s initial plan.

He had so many rules.

Cover organic matter in the microwave so it doesn’t splatter.

Don’t show up on his dates.

No blood on the countertops.

No heads in the fridge.

No shooting the wall.

No Cluedo.

Tedious.

Your unsuspecting scientist friend led on, each step bringing him closer to what he needed to know, and you glanced over at him. The smug smile on your lips made his heart skip a beat.

How odd.

He wasn’t at risk for heart disease or arrhythmia.

Something to look into later.


End file.
